


There'll Be a Light in the Hall

by PaolaWarbler



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Arthur just doesn't have friends, Historical Inaccuracy, I didn't do my research, M/M, Post-Revolution, So I had to make some for him, Sorry Not Sorry, Sorry for the OCs, Splendid Isolation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaolaWarbler/pseuds/PaolaWarbler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on "If You Ever Come Back" by: The Script. Post-Revolutionary War. USUK. Angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There'll Be a Light in the Hall

Arthur walked into his neighborhood, bones weary and heart heavy. His eyes stung from the tears he had cried on the battlefield. Arthur felt a lump of rage in his throat as he passed by Francis' dark and empty house. "He was probably celebrating with Alfred..." The blonde's voice choked on the last word. Alfred...his beloved colony gone. Arthur shook his head and walked inside his house. As soon in, he went to the bathroom and took off his bloody and destroyed uniform. He stared at it for a moment before clutching it tightly in his fist. He took a few deep breaths to stop the tears from coming again and then thew the uniform to the side. After taking a long shower and tending to his wounds, he noticed that it was dark and he was so weary from the war that he just wanted to sleep it off. "Maybe when I wake up, this will all be a dream." Arthur muttered to himself but he knew that wouldn't be true. The house was dark when Francis came back from celebrating. Noticing Arthur's house was dark, he sadly gazed at it. And then he noticed something strange. The front door was wide open and the front porch light was blazing. Francis stared at the house for a moment before walking away. Arthur was the last person wanting him to poke around. Arthur dreamed of bombs, guns and blazing blue eyes that night. Arthur woke the next morning, sore and heavy-hearted. "Not a dream then." He whispered as he stared at the ceiling. He slowly got up, his youthful body turned old with wounds. He shuffled downstairs and started the kettle. His hands went on auto-pilot as he started thinking about everything that he would have to do that day. With the war over, he would have to tend to the sick and wounded, make sure everyone got their pay for being in the war and then try to carry on with life then. It was only when he sat down that he noticed the other teacup placed directly across from him. Ezperanza, his next door neighbor and closest thing Arthur was capable of having to a friend, was outside when she heard a crash coming from Arthur's house. Ezperanza stared at the house for a moment before shaking her head. "Arthur shouldn't be taking this so hard." She whispered to herself. Arthur's dining room wall was covered with spilled tea and scattered china slivers covered the floor. Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

Before going to bed that night, Arthur made sure the door was wide open and left his porch light on. Trudging into his bedroom, he fell into the bed. He closed his eyes for a few moments. After a long, weary day of the barest bones of his plans being accomplished, all he wanted to do was sleep. As he took a deep breath, a familiar scent assaulted his senses. His head snapped up, heart beating rapidly. No one was in the room. That's when Arthur realized he fell on the right side of the bed, instead of his usual left. He stared at the pillow that he was burrowing himself in. Arthur's heart broke a little more but before the tears could collect and fall, he got up quickly. "Idiot...Idiot!" He whispered harshly to himself as some tears fell. He collected them in his brown, leather glove and stared at the offending tears in disgust. "IDIOT!" He roared as he threw the glove across the room, away from him. He dragged his hands through his long, blonde hair, tugging at the strands to keep the tears at bay. He took a long, deep breath and felt the exhaustion fall upon him. He quickly changed into his night clothes and fell on the left side of the bed this time. As the night went on, Arthur inched his way to the right side of the bed. When he awoke the next morning, he had curled around the pillow. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Every night afterward, Arthur slept on the right side of the bed.

A few weeks later, Ezperanza and Andrew came by his door. The door was wide open and the light was still burning. They shared a concerned look. "Arthur?" They called out, stepping lightly over the threshold. They walked through the darkened house and heard a slight sniffling coming from Arthur's bedroom. They came to a stop in front of the door. Ezperanza nodded towards Andrew and he slowly opened the door. Arthur was sitting in the dark, in the middle of the room, holding a white, fluffy blanket in his arms. The remains of a package were next to him. He had tears running down his face. He was so enraptured by his angst that he didn't notice his two kind-of "friends" enter the room. Andrew, not knowing what to do in a situation like this, pushed Ezperanza forward. Ezperanza bit her lip and walked towards Arthur carefully. "Arthur?" He refused to acknowledge his "friends", hands tightening on the blanket. "Arthur, this isn't healthy. I know it hurts but we're your friends. We know you. It's time to let go." Arthur's green eyes flashed angrily. His head snapped up and he fixed Ezperanza with an icy glare. "Don't tell me when it's time to let go. It isn't bloody time to let go, you wanker!" Arthur clutched at the blanket. "No, he's coming back. I just know it." He glared at the both of them. "Get the hell out of my house!" Ezperanza raised her hands in surrender and walked back slowly. "Come on, Andrew. We won't be much help here." As they made their way to the bedroom door, Ezperanza turned back to Arthur and said, "I know it hurts but I don't think he would want you acting this way." She barely got the door closed before a shoe came flying in her direction. "Well, that didn't accomplish anything." She sighed. Andrew nodded silently. That night, Arthur fell asleep with the white blanket still clutched in his arms.

Arthur crumbled the ink-riddled paper in his hands. "No! No! No! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" He ranted as he threw the paper across the room The floor was strewn with papers in similar states. Some only had a few words distinguishable on them. Most of them said, "Alfred, come back." Arthur ran his ink hands in his blonde hair, leaving streaks of black in them. He had been working on a proper letter for hours now and nothing. Not one bit of scrap would work to get Alfred back. He dipped his quill again and started to write again. "My dearest Alfred," Arthur muttered. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. There were so many things he wanted to say to him. But the most important message was just come home. He stared at the white blanket on the bed. He had taken to sleeping with it in the night as well as sleeping on the right side of the bed. He just couldn't accept the fact that Alfred was gone, independent. And he wouldn't. He rejected his Declaration of Independence. This was just a silly phase. There had to be some way to win him back. "They'll see," Arthur muttered, speaking on his friends' doubt of Alfred coming back. "He'll come back and it'll be like he was never gone." Arthur started writing again and as the sun started to go down and the gas lamps came on, he was still writing. The only break he had was to turn on the porch light. Arthur didn't stop writing until he passed out for exhaustion. In all, he wrote a twelve-page letter. But it wasn't a letter on winning Alfred back at all but a reminiscence of all the times they had shared. That night, he dreamed of the better times when everything was easier.

Arthur walked around the house the next day plagued by memories. He even remembered the terrible times and wished for those again. If only for ten more minutes with Alfred by his side. Even if they were having on of their spats about Arthur being over-protective or one of the many insignificant things they fought over. He even wished for the days when they wouldn't talk to each other all day because of their stubborn pride. He didn't even fight when Ezperanza and Andrew kidnapped him that night and got him roaring drunk at the pub. As they walked out of the pub into the cold November air, Arthur was slurring very loudly, "You'll see, Alfred'll be back in no time." He started laughing manically. "You hear that! Alfred will come back." He leaned against a cold, brick wall and felt tears slip down his face. "He'll come back. I just have to wait." By that point, Ezperanza had hoisted Arthur up and took him back home. As they walked their way back home, Arthur smiled. "Hey, Ezperanza, do you think Alfred thinks about me? Do you think he misses me? I miss him so much." Ezperanza didn't say anything, just adjusting Arthur's weight on her shoulders. "I wonder if he thinks about all the things I do, if he thinks about all the domestics we had or just the days when we would have a nice night in." Ezperanza dropped Arthur off at his house. Arthur turned to her and nodded. "Thanks, Ezperanza. You're a good friend." She just looked pityingly at Arthur and nodded. "If you need me, I'm right next door." That night, Arthur had draped Alfred's old, baby blanket over his shoulders and crawled to Alfred's side of the bed. He looked over all the letters he kept underneath Alfred's pillow. He smiled at the memories of them both. "He'll back back. I just have to wait." He quickly dropped into unconsciousness, Alfred's name on his lips. The door was wide open and the porch light was still blazing.

Time slowly passed as it does and Arthur had been able to recover enough to finally box up Alfred's white baby blanket and the letters. He never sent the letter he wrote and he, Ezperanza and Andrew all maintained the gentle fiction that the night they got Arthur drunk never happened. One night as Arthur padded around his house, he passed by the open door. He stared at it for a long moment and then slowly walked up and shut the door. The lock clicking sounded loud and final. That night, the light was off for the first time in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> So random but appropriate for this fanfiction. If you want to die some more, here a link to an extremely depressing Post-Revolutionary War USUK video. YAY ANGST!
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EY_hjTxA5rM


End file.
